


some kind of luck

by demalore



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, and avi's there too for like a paragraph, hope u like gay orcs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 11:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11508621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demalore/pseuds/demalore
Summary: Brad: hiMerle: fuck the fuck off





	some kind of luck

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the incredible and talented Taako for beta reading this!! The hot stuff and the lines involving Merle's ass? That was all them and they are VERY important additions.
> 
> They also wrote [the fic that made me ship it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10545870), so check out their [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerwithahintofpsychopathy/pseuds/gingerwithahintofpsychopathy) for more hot stuff, or their [tumblr](https://narcissistictaako.tumblr.com/) for just the best content around

“Aviiii, c’mon.  You know me, we’re friends, right?  Can’t you let it slide, just this once?”

“Director’s orders, sorry.”

“Y’know, this is bullshit,” Merle clamped his hands on his hips, glaring up at Avi.  “I’m one of the three people doing any damn work done around here, and I still have to _share_ with you cockaninnies!”

Avi shifted uncomfortably, his hand moving to his side for a flask that wasn’t there.  “I-it’s Bureau regulation, wish I could-”

“I’ll tell you where you can stuff your wishes!” Merle jabbed a finger in the air.  “Now you let me into that cannon and no one has to-”

“Hey, fellas!” rang a voice more cheerful than the current mood entailed.  Avi’s face was white, staring down the finger of a wooden arm endowed with godly might, but he relaxed at the sound of the greeting.  Merle dropped his arm and groaned loudly, unabashedly baring his disgust for the newcomer, hoping they’d take the hint and bug off.

“Don’t tell me you’re sticking me with _him,_ ” Merle said, a more pleading tone rising in his voice.  “C’mon, kid, _anyone_ else.”

“You’re the only two employees signed up to go planetside today,” Avi said, fiddling with the controls in order to avoid making eye contact with Merle.  “And since we’re doubling up on the cannons as an extra safety precaution, you’ll have to go together.”

“Bunch of bullshit, this is,” Merle grumbled, crossing his arms and half-turning away from Brad.  “You’re just being cheap, aren’t you?”

Avi didn’t answer, but Brad was more than happy to fill the silence.  “Beautiful day for a trip, isn’t it, Merle? Isn’t it lucky that we both signed up to travel today?”

“It’s some kind of luck, all right.” Merle rolled his eyes.

“What a brilliant idea this was, sharing the cannons!” Brad gushed as they puzzle-cubed themselves into the glass orb.  Merle huddled to one side, while Brad’s hulking form took up the rest of the space.  “I think this kind of casual outside-the-workplace interaction will really serve to strengthen the bonds between Bureau members, don’t you?”

“Sure, I-” Merle’s sarcastic response was cut off by a sudden cannon blast. Brad flattened back against the curvature of the orb, while Merle was flung right into Brad’s chest. The impact shot the breath from Brad’s lungs, and as the cannonball’s acceleration continued to press Merle against him, his face turned bluer and bluer.

The orb gradually slowed as it lowered down toward the earth and released its parachute, and Merle was once again able to move freely.  He was in no real hurry to push himself off of Brad.  It wasn’t often he had the chance to see him shut up for once.  And, he had to admit, Brad’s toned chest made a decent cushion.

“So, ah, what are you going planetside for?” Brad huffed, still refilling his lungs.

“Oh, general old man stuff,” Merle answered.  “Antiquing.  Shuffleboard.  Hitting on women a third my age.”

Brad tilted his head, looking at Merle with something almost resembling concern.  Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Brad’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth parted into a wide, fang-laden grin.  “That was a _joke_ , wasn’t it, Merle?”

“Yeah, don’t get too excited,” Merle grumbled, averting his eyes toward the world rushing beneath them.  He was used to his ‘humor’ being met with groans or, at best, indifference.  This kind of barefaced appreciation was sickening.

“What about you?  Big plans?” Merle asked, still staring at the floor of the orb.  Watching the world spinning thousands of feet below was nauseating, but still better than the alternative.

“Oh, just the usual,” Brad launched back into his authoritative cheeriness.  “A little shopping, a new art museum to see...a date...”

“A date? Huh,” Merle said, brow furrowed.  Funny, he had never pictured Brad dating.  The guy already treated everyone like his best friend, and Merle’d hate to think of how he’d be in a relationship.  Brad was just too cheerful - Merle was sure he’d be a disgustingly sappy boyfriend.

“Oh, it’s no one you know,” Brad said dismissively.  “What about you?  Is there a special someone waiting for you down there?”

“Pan forbid,” Merle spat.  If Hecuba was waiting for him, it wouldn’t be with open arms.  Unless each of those arms were wielding a battle-axe.

Merle didn’t elaborate, and Brad didn’t have a perky follow-up this time.  For a few seconds, the only sound was the faint whistle of wind against their cannonball.

“Aaaall righty then!” Brad grinned forcefully.  He clapped his large hands together and dropped them into his lap, putting an end to any conversation for the rest of the trip.

Merle rested his chin in his hands and kept his eyes on the world below.  The orb was traveling with incredible speed, even with the parachute deployed, but the remainder of the journey still seemed to take an eternity.  Somehow, Brad’s silence was even worse than his incessant chatter.

They landed at the base of a cliff, well away from any nearby towns.  There was a bit of forest cover, but even from where they were, they could hear the ocean crashing against a nearby beach.

Merle had to hop rather than step out of the cannonball.  “If you’re not back here in eight hours, I’m ditching you.”  He turned his back to Brad, seemingly eager to get moving.

“Roger that!” Brad chirped.  His exit was no more graceful than Merle’s.  He had to twist his broad shoulders sideways in order to maneuver them through the door, and getting his lower half out wasn’t any easier.  Once outside, Brad arched his spine backwards, flexing his arms above, stretching his body to its fullest height.

He turned back to the orb and tapped his bracer to send it away.  There was a chime of confirmation and a dull rumble of machinery, but also a faint, sharp intake of breath.  Brad turned in time to see Merle turn abruptly on his heel and storm off into the trees, more hurried than Brad had ever seen him before.

 _Funny,_ Brad thought, watching the orb ascend into the sky.   _Thought Merle would’ve been long gone by now._

 

Brad was back well before his deadline.  When he didn’t find Merle at the dropoff site, he decided to take the opportunity to take a brisk walk on the beach; it wasn’t often he had the chance to enjoy nature for nature’s sake, and the sea was something you grew to miss while living on a secret moon base.

He wasn’t surprised to find a dwarf on the beach, but was surprised to see it was a dwarf he knew.  Merle was sitting cross-legged in the sand, two small packages nestled in his lap, staring off at the darkening sky.

Brad wordlessly walked over to Merle and assumed a cross-legged position beside him.  Merle’s eyes darted up at him, then settled back on the horizon.  A red sun was dipping into the frothy waves, casting oblong shadows amidst the miniature sand dunes around them.

“Have a...productive day?” Brad asked hesitantly, his voice perhaps one note less perky than usual.

A drawn-out sigh rustled through Merle’s beard.  “No,” he said finally after some internal debate.  “Can’t say I have, Brad.”

Brad turned to look at Merle, seeking some explanation for that vague, disheartening response.  Merle’s solemn expression yielded no answers, but it was a short trip from Merle’s face to his lap, where the unmarked presents still sat.

Merle knew he had to say something.  Brad was staring directly at his crotch.  He reached for the packages and shook them at Brad.  “Fine, here,” he grumbled.  “I spent too much damn time wrapping these for no one to open them.”

Brad took the packages tenderly.  Based on his handful of experiences with Merle--and the hundreds of outlandish stories he had heard through other B.O.B. coworkers and HR complaints -- he knew there was a 90% chance that these were dangerous items.  Both packages fit in the palm of one of Brad’s hands, but they might as well have been sleeping dragons for how gingerly Brad held them.

He meticulously picked at the dozen pieces of tape holding the wrapping paper haphazardly together and peeled them away, a process that took an excruciating number of minutes to complete.  With the paper removed, Brad revealed a set of brass knuckles, small enough for a child to wear.  And in the other, a novel: _The Escapade Spot._ Brad recognized this book, but only barely.  He hadn’t read it since he was young.

“Well, you saved me the trouble of having to buy more wrapping paper,” Merle huffed, now staring down at his empty lap.  “So thanks for that, I guess.”

“Oh, Merle,” Brad said, his expression switching immediately from confusion to despair.  It was so exaggerated that, if it had been anyone but Brad, Merle would’ve thought he was being mocked.

Brad held up the presents, and, as if the objects themselves were emanating pure sadness, became even more distressed.  “These were for...and they didn’t…”

“I don’t want to bother you with this shit,” Merle cut in, taking the presents away, half worried that Brad would start crying.  “Not your damn fault.  You shouldn’t even know about my crappy family life.”

Brad remembered how reluctant Merle had been to fill out those particular forms.  Brad had kept things confidential, of course, but there was no reason to feign ignorance now.  “Merle...as your Head of Human Resources-”

“Eugh.  We’re not on the base, kid.”

“As your friend then,” Brad amended, “you’re allowed to...you know, tell me things. We may not be the closest, but I strive to be a loyal companion and potential confidant to all the Bureau employees.”

“Hard pass,” Merle said bluntly, although Brad thought he saw the side of Merle’s mustache flicker with a grin.

“Your date, though?” Merle went on, changing the subject with an forced enthusiasm.  “How was it?”

Brad smirked.  “Are you asking as an employee of the Bureau of Balance, or as a friend?”

“Shit.  Friend, I guess.”

“Either way, didn’t work out,” Brad muddled, eyes darting to the side.  

“Guess we both got stood up,” said Merle, considerably cheerier now.  “Just not our day, huh, buddy?”

Before Brad could answer, Merle added, “So you haven’t eaten?  Might as well get something, ‘long as we’re down here.”

Brad squinted at Merle.  “Really?  If we head into town, we’ll be going over your eight hour deadline.”

“Screw the deadline.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned how to do, it’s how to make the best out of a shitty situation.”  Just a day ago, you couldn’t have forced Merle to spend time with Brad.  But this day already sucked, what did he have to lose?

“Alright, sounds good,” Brad said softly, a pulse of oratory magic warming the air. Merle, dragging himself up from the beach and complaining loudly about sand in his asscrack, missed the light blush rising in Brad’s cheeks.

 

“I know I said I’d let you pick the place, but. Come on.”

“Try to have an open mind, Merle!”  Brad pulled Merle along, dragging him like a parent with an unruly child.  “New experiences are an invaluable part of life!”

“Not my life,” Merle gruffed.  “Only thing I need is a stiff drink and a hunk of meat.”

“Funny, I would’ve thought you were a vegetarian, as an acolyte of Pan?”

Merle laughed.  “Yeah, I put up with a lot of shit for being a cleric, but Pan doesn’t pay me enough for that.  ‘Less this tree arm starts growing gold coins, I’m eating as much meat as I damn well please.”

“Fair enough,” Brad chuckled.  He had taken advantage of Merle’s distraction to guide him into a seat at a table outside a building made mostly of stone.  This gave it a somewhat rustic appearance, although judging by the fare and the patrons, it wasn’t rustic at all.

“This place gives me the willies,” Merle shivered, picking up a Fantasy Olive Garden menu.  “Believe me, I’ve been to some crazy places, but something about this place..”

“Just relax,” Brad said, not bothering to look at his own menu.  He had received an Unlimited Pasta Pass as a Candlenights present from Taako, and had come here enough times by now to know the menu by heart.  It was an odd choice of present, to be sure, and even odder was the fact that Taako behaved as if it were a joke.  Brad couldn’t imagine why, but he was thankful for the generosity all the same.

“How can I relax?  Can’t even get a fucking drink here.”

“There’s wine, Merle.”

“I mean a _real_ drink, not that wimpy shit.”

When the breadstick basket came, Merle quickly stopped complaining.  He emptied the basket before the waiter returned with their waters, and was halfway through the refill when she came for their orders.

Brad ordered entrees for the both of them--Merle was too focused on the unlimited breadsticks to care--as well as a glass of wine for himself.

“You’re drinking?” Merle asked through a mouthful of parmesan and butter.

Brad took a sip from his long-stemmed glass and winked.  “We’re not on the base, kid,” he quipped.

“Yup, funny, but no.  I’m probably old enough to be your grandpa.”

Brad nearly spit out his wine.  He stared, cheeks bulged, at Merle, until he remembered to swallow.  Merle stared in confusion as Brad laughed silently to himself, then neatly polished off the rest of his wine.

“Merle..how old do you think I am, exactly?”

Merle bristled, but didn’t trust himself enough to answer.  He mostly hung around Magnus and Taako, and so was used to being the old man of the group.  But now that he took a closer look at Brad, he realized that might not apply here.  Brad had the optimism of a dumb little kid, yeah, but there was no denying the happy wrinkles around his eyes, the streaks of gray in his ponytail.

The knowing glimmer of his smile?  Yikes, maybe that was too close a look.

“H-hey,” Merle said, flustered and desperate to change the subject, “so, you’re not going to tell anyone, right?  About today?”

“Of course not,” Brad shook his head solemnly.  “That would be totally unprofessional.”

“Yeah?  And all of this, this is totally ‘professional’ then?” Merle swung a breadstick around, indicating the whole fast-casual dining experience. His palms were sweating a little; he took a bite of the breadstick to calm his nerves.

Brad chuckled, “You know what I mean.  It would go against workplace ethics to share such sensitive information.”

“‘Workplace ethics’,” Merle parroted sarcastically, “what fucking good do those do, anyway?  If you ask me, all your job is is sucking all the goddamn fun out of everything.”

“It’s not ideal, no, but it’s work.”

“No?”  Merle had finished his second basket of breadsticks, and his attention was focused on Brad with an almost intimidating intensity.  “We’re out there risking our asses, and all you have to do is fill out paperwork?  You go ahead and tell me how that’s not ‘ideal’.”

Brad blinked.  “I guess...you three, all of you, get to go out saving the world, are hailed as heroes, and I just...well, you said it yourself. ‘Suck the goddamn fun out of everything’.”

Merle found that he had unconsciously leaned all the way across the table and was staring right into Brad’s face.  He settled back into his chair, brushing some imaginary crumbs off his lap.  “Yeah, well, I don’t know about ‘saving the world’.  That’s more Magnus and Taako’s shtick, not mine.”

“Are you kidding?” Brad nearly jumped out of his chair.  “You three are _legends!_ ”

“Yeah, ‘us three’,” Merle said snippily.  “Individually, Magnus is the big strong hero, and everyone can’t get enough of Taako, ‘from TV’.  But me?”  He slumped in his seat, an impressive feat for someone that short, and hated the bitterness he could hear in his own voice.  “I’m just part of the set.”

Brad prided himself on having a positive outlook for every bad situation. This one, though, hit a little too close to home for his usual spiel.

 _Workplace ethics be damned._  Brad reached across the table and took Merle’s flesh hand between his own.  It looked a little ridiculous--a hand sandwich made with two huge pieces of bread and a single pepperoni between them--but Merle didn’t protest, so Brad took that as a good sign.

“I know what it’s like for people to take you for granted,” Brad said.  He dared a smile and added, “Heck, you’ve done it to me plenty of times.”

Merle didn’t smile, but he did look up at Brad with something searching in his expression.  Maybe a silent invitation to continue, or maybe he was just getting annoyed.

Taking his chances that it was the former, Brad lowered his voice.  “And for what it’s worth, I think you need to give yourself more credit.  Past mistakes aside, you’re a good dad, and a good friend.  Magnus and Taako are lucky to have you on their team.”

“Sure, fine,” Merle said noncommittally, although the praise did seem to lighten his spirits. His fingers twitched.  “But, really, what am I bringing to the table?  What do I have that they don’t?”

A small spasm ran through Brad, his expression twisting with indecision for such a fleeting moment that Merle would have assumed he imagined it if not for the almost imperceptible tightening of Brad’s hands around his own.  He was looking, wide-eyed, at Merle.

“The hell was that?”  Merle asked.

“N-nothing, just…” Brad hid his mouth behind his hands, but his words were still audible, “just had a dumb idea.”

“My job is nothing but a series of dumb ideas.  Let’s hear it.”

Brad’s cheeks darkened, and his arm started shaking again.  “W-well, you said ‘what do I have that they don’t’, and so I was going to say-”

“You were going to say that I could have you.”

“Yeah.  Sappy, right?” Brad averted his eyes and took the smallest possible sip of wine.

“Yeah.  I don’t do sappy shit.  But you know, I think I see where this is going, and we’re not getting any younger, so let’s get to it.”

And before Brad could parse the meaning of that, there was the clunk of heavy dwarven boots on the Fantasy Olive Garden table, and then a dwarf was on top of him.  Brad’s cutlery clattered to the ground. Brad’s automatic admonishment of unsafe behaviour never quite made it past his lips.  Without the help of the cannonball’s G-force, Merle wasn’t heavy, but the force of his lips on Brad’s pushed him back, tipping his chair dangerously for a second before Brad managed to get it under control.  After a second’s delay, Brad gathered himself and retaliated, lifting Merle up with one hand while wrapping the other around his torso and lowering Merle into his lap.  Merle was small enough that Brad could reach all the way around his body, which he did, and Brad worried for a moment that it looked like he was crushing him.

 _Right._ That’s _what was wrong with this image._

Merle made no objection to being scooped up in Brad’s burly arms, clutching at Brad’s biceps with both hands until he was seated in Brad’s lap.  He took full advantage of the position, kissing with all the strength he could muster, his hands switching almost immediately from Brad’s arms to his chest, his neck, the curve of his jawline.  Merle’s lips were moving hungrily across Brad’s larger lips, pulling slightly back to kiss his exposed fangs, one thumb stroking over them with a fascination Brad hadn’t experienced before.

Brad answered back best he could.  Kissing from below was a new experience for Brad, as an orc, but one he found he didn’t mind in the slightest.  He was happy to let Merle take charge while he held the dwarf in his arms, fighting the urge to clutch him even closer. His body was warm, and unmistakably strong for someone his age, and Brad felt intoxicated by Merle’s sheer closeness as much as by the wine he’d drank earlier.

Five stubby fingers pressed against Brad’s scalp and pulled, _hard_ , on his hair.  Brad gasped in surprise, and Merle seized the opportunity to delve deeper.  Merle was really liking these fangs, he realized as one caught his lip a little, not quite breaking the skin. He chastised himself for having not tried kissing an orc sooner, and let his tongue swipe across Brad’s with a self-satisfied grunt.

Brad felt the floor begin to fall from under him, and leaned forward sharply.  His chair righted itself, narrowly avoiding a painful fall, but Merle fell out of his arms and onto the table, landing on his ass.  A dozen apologies raced out of Brad’s mouth at once, coming out in a cluttered heap, but Merle only laughed.

“If you didn’t want tongue, could’ve just _said_ so.”

 

They left the Olive Garden not long after that.  Unlimited breadsticks or not, too many people were staring at them - understandably, Brad had to admit - for them to enjoy a normal meal.  Brad left a few apologetic coins on the table, and they both made their way back to the dropoff site.

The ocean view wasn’t the picturesque scene they had left earlier.  A half-moon illuminated the purple sky--a scene not too different from the moon base.  Only the sound of the invisible ocean waves reminded him they were still on the ground.

Brad heard Merle’s footsteps stop, and turned to see him squatting down in the sand.  By the faint moonlight, he could make out two depressions in the sand, one significantly larger than the other.  Brad would have recognized what they were immediately, if not for the new addition of hundreds of small footprints around and through them, like someone had been running in erratic circles across the sand.  Merle was squatting near the smaller of the depressions, holding a small piece of paper far too close to his eyes. Brad wondered if he needed glasses. Merle would look very distinguished with glasses, in his opinion.

“My eyes are too old for this shit,” Merle said gruffly, giving up and sullenly handing the note to Brad.

Brad took the note without question, adjusted his glasses, and read.  “‘Sorry we missed you, Mookie started chasing a squirrel and we got lost.  See you next week?  -M”

The ride back to the moon base was even less talkative than their last ride, but it was a comfortable silence this time.  It wasn’t until they were just pulling in to the dock that Merle finally spoke up.

“So, uh, next week then?”

Brad blinked.  “You want me to...see your kids?”

“Hell no,” Merle blurted, horrified, then added,  “Not yet, anyway.  I was thinking more like a date.  Like tonight.”

Brad laughed nervously, “Oh, I don’t know if that was a-”

“You’re a fucking awful liar, Brad.  In the future, you want a date with someone?  Just ask.  None of this pretending-you-got-stood-up bullshit.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

Merle raised his eyebrows.  “Well?”

"Oh..oh!  Do you, uh, want to get a drink, Merle?”

“I don’t know, haven’t you already had enough wine?”

Brad cracked a grin.  “I mean a _real_ drink, not ‘that wimpy shit’.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Merle clapped a hand on - Brad assumed he was aiming for his lower back, but the slap was incredibly close to his ass due to the height difference - Brad blushed..  “Maybe you don’t suck the fun out of everything after all.”

“Merle,” Brad said softly, a tear glimmering in the corner of his eye, “that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Merle said, “I don’t do sappy shit, remember?”

But, as Brad would soon learn, that wasn’t really true at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are really appreciated! Smiley faces, angry rants, haikus, don't care, just let me know you were here!


End file.
